Sleep
by LoveHP
Summary: Two Characters reflect on Harry's passing


****

Sleep well

He's gone...

Cold and lifeless. Molly wished he was just another silly boggart, wished her fear had never became a realisation.

With a harsh sniffle that echoed in hospital wing's mortuary, she wringed the wet towel in her hands, letting the water -- not too cold and not too hot -- cascade down her hands and into the bowl. He was dead, but even in death she felt compelled to make him comfortable for his eternal rest.

Remus was opposite her, looking pale and withdrawn. He looked older than ever. Molly watched him fleetingly as his hand carefully touched the boy's face, fingers brushing over cold, white skin. It was as though he was memorising every little detail the boy had to offer, from a freckle to ... his _scar_... etching him into his memory, because it was the last time he was ever going to see Harry again.

Molly turned away, pretending to be more interested in the towel, unfolding and refolding it before letting it rest on Harry's body for his final wash. She was trying desperately not to cry; felt the tension around her eyes and the prickle of the tears which were threatening to fall. She stifled a moan of longing as she raised his lifeless arm, letting the towel glide along his skin, washing away the grime and blood of battle.

She was quite aware, yet felt disbelieving at the same time that she was cleaning him up for the last time. Never to wipe his tears away again and cuddle him until his heartache dissipated. Never to hear him cry out during another nightmare, or laugh with her children and friends once more. Never to live to become a graduated wizard, become an Auror, feel the joy of becoming a father and grow old with his loved ones.

Molly was never going to be there again for her almost-son, Harry.

__

Her surrogate boy.

He was gone... and Molly felt a sudden pang of jealousy now that Harry was in the arms of his real mother. He gained a mother and father, but left behind those who loved him in the living.

She gasped out loud, tears splattering Harry's torn body. Remus jumped at the sudden noise. "I-I-I'm sorry," she said, trembling while she washed his shoulder.

"Molly... hand me a towel... I finished --" Remus paused. The words took a lot of strength to say. "I've finished putting the Anti-Decomposition Charm on him."

She nodded in grim response, feeling her heart clench at that awful statement; it was too true and clinical... without emotion.

"I did his back before you came in. Just his front," Molly said monotonously.

He's so still. She's seen family members dead before, though she could never shake the haunting feeling she felt seeing them... especially the little ones.

He didn't seem real! Harry was lying in front of her, Molly was looking right at him. Nevertheless, how could he have been alive when now he only resembled a wax doll? He was peaceful and sleeping... just innocent... unreal.

Why did he have to be peaceful only in death? Why couldn't he have been at peace while he was alive? Questions too far from comprehension to be answered, Molly thought with bitter hurt.

She wiped away the blood from his chest and dared a look at his sleeping face. "I'm glad," she cried, words tumbling out before she realised she was talking.

Remus stopped. "About what?" His brow was knitted in sad bewilderment.

"I-I'm glad that he didn't die alone." She was happy in a way for Harry... happy he had died in the comfort of another's arms, even if it was a sour consolation for a life wasted so short.

Remus blinked and continued to wipe him, towel carefully washing the boy's hand, making sure his limp fingers were clean. "I never said goodbye," he said slowly. "I thought I was going to die going out there, I was so sure. However, I told him I'd see him when it was over. Harry smiled, but he was dreading it -- saw it in his eyes -- he just grinned and told me the exact same thing." Remus paused for a moment, observing Harry with drooping eyes. "Molly, I had lied for myself ... not for him!"

Remus dropped the towel by Harry's side and fell into the seat, running his hands through his greying hair. Molly's heart sink to her knees as she observed the lost expression on his face.

He sighed. "I saw him fall... saw Ron hold him... I ran and ran ... but I was too late," he said and exhaled a shaky breathe. "I heard his last bre-- I just froze. I couldn't think and I couldn't breathe. I thought it was a dream."

"Oh, Remus." Molly sat down too, beside Harry's still form, too weak with emotion to continue bathing him.

"I don't care that he defeated Voldemort. I just want him back." His voice was hoarse. She tried her best to not look at Harry. "He was... he was the only one who was left. I'm the only one now."

Molly sniffled and stood up with a large intake of breath. She didn't want to finish washing Harry, because finishing meant he had to be dressed. Dressing him meant he had to be placed in a coffin, and placing him in that box meant she was never going to see him again.

He was here, but he was gone.

__

Not forever, though! Molly thought with a sad little smile. _We'll see you again, one day._

"He's-- he _was_ just a boy..." Remus said shaking his head in misery, destroying her moment of peace. "He was going to graduate in two months. He never had the chance to live--"

Molly's smile disappeared; now her lip quivered. Remus bowed his head by Harry's hand, grieving, his frown lines becoming more pronounced.

Molly suddenly concentrated on Harry's hand, desperate to make it move, like somehow _her_ boy was playing a very bad joke and he was really alive, ready to comfort Professor Lupin. However, his hand didn't move... he didn't breathe and his beautiful green eyes were never going to open, though she wished and wished they would.

She sighed, picked up the wet towel and soaked it again, ready to wash his face. She did it carefully like she was handling a fragile doll, letting the cloth slide over the curve of his cheeks, over his lips and chin, over his glasses-less eyes and finally his scar. She let her finger run over his famous mark, which had shaped who he had turned out to be in life and death.

Molly pulled away in silence, dropping the bloodied, soiled rag into the bowl. His final bath was completed. Remus looked up, meeting Molly's eye and nodded.

He got up, walked across the room and opened a brown package that sat on a chair. Crisp black Hogwarts robes were unfolded in his hands while Molly picked up Harry's best Muggle clothes, which were not the best to begin with. Remus lifted his body up as she helped slip his shirt on. Without a word they pulled on his underwear and ironed jeans. They finished up by placing his socks and his trainers, which had been washed and looked snowy white, on each foot, then finally his robes.

"He looks so smart." Molly smoothed his clothes, aware that in a few days time Harry was going to be buried.

She imagined Harry turning around for her inspection with a cheeky smile on his face. She chuckled briefly, remembering telling him to comb his hair down. In response, he just rolled his eyes at her.

Remus didn't speak; he was busy placing Harry's wand in his robe pocket. He stood back and stared at the boy's unmoving feet.

"Are you going to--" Molly pointed towards the white coffin behind Remus.

He gulped, clasped his shaking hands and nodded. Remus didn't use his wand. He placed an arm under the boy's back and an arm under his knees, lifting him. Then he stopped, closing his eyes for a moment.

"Are you all right?" She asked, concerned as Remus just stood with Harry's limp body in his arms.

"Don't worry about me," he replied, with a voice that was barely audible. He composed himself and carried Harry over to the coffin.

Molly breathed in again, trying not to cry. She slowly walked over to stand by Remus' side and looked into the box. Again she smoothed Harry's robes and made sure his stubborn raven hair was neat as he lay sleeping on the white pillow. Molly miserably retrieved his glasses, slipping them on his pale face while Remus retrieved the Sword of Gryffindor, which had been lying in front of the coffin.

They stared sullenly at the sword which glinted in the candlelight. Remus ran his hand over the intricate designs, letting his fingers glide down the blade, over Godric's name.

"Dumbledore thought it should be buried with him," he said. "Harry was the first to take it out ..."

And oh did Molly remember. If it wasn't for Harry she would've buried Ginny, her only daughter ... her little princess.

"It belongs to Harry," he said. Without blinking, he placed the sword on Harry's chest, its blade stopping halfway down his shins. Remus coiled the boy's hands around its handle and stood back.

It was finished.

Molly cried. Harry looked like a knight. A brave knight losing his life in battle and he had done just that. In centuries to come his memory would live on. Molly was determined to keep the image of a handsome boy -- young man -- as a knightly wizard of nobility always on her mind. It would be a story she'd tell to her grandchildren, because Harry gave them hope and most of all ... she loved him.

Letting her tears fall, she quickly wiped them away as her other hand brushed Harry's fringe over to cover his scar. He had hated that scar. Molly hated it too, for all its misfortune. "We-we'll miss you, Harry," she sobbed.

"I hope... I hope you're happy on the other side," Remus said, touching Harry's cheek. "Say hello to your mum and dad... and Sirius. Bye Harry." Remus abruptly walked away.

Molly had the distinct feeling this was the last time before he was buried that Remus would see him. The quicker his goodbye was over with, the better Molly thought he'd cope.

She turned back to her brave knight, bent down over the coffin and kissed Harry's forehead, imagining her surrogate boy finally in peace with his mum and dad. Yet, she couldn't help noticing how peaceful he was laying in front of her.

"Sleep well, Harry. Sleep well."


End file.
